


you are my sunshine

by synchhrome



Series: don't take my sunshine away [1]
Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Miles likes to use Ganke's skin as canvas for his art
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-11-26 18:42:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18184337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synchhrome/pseuds/synchhrome
Summary: Miles gives so much to all these people: his heart, his loyalty, hislife,without expecting anything in return.So, if Miles says it means a lot to him that Ganke does what he does, then Ganke will do what he's always done.Make sure Miles always has somewhere he can come back to everytime.(or; young love is tough love when you love a spiderman, as told by one ganke lee)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No beta we die like men.

i.

Here's the thing: Ganke likes Miles. 

Which is, you know, fine. Ganke can deal with a crush. It's fine. He's had crushes before! Except, okay, those past crushes were not his roommate nor do they mumble lyrics at odd hours while working on a Calc homework nor are they so adorably awkward and still have the superpower to make Ganke's heart stutter when hanging off their dorm's ceiling clad in spandex.

Nope. 

That's all Miles Morales. 

So, okay. Ganke _might_ be in a little bit of trouble. (But. Have you seen. Miles Morales’ smile? _That_ is trouble) He hasn't embarrassed himself, yet, but that's twenty-percent because Ganke still wants to have some dignity left and eighty-percent because _Miles Morales is as oblivious as a rock_. No kidding. Just last week, he thought for sure that Miles has caught up on Ganke's planetary crush on him when the latter found a lunchbox on top of his bunker after a night of patrolling around New York.

“Dude! This a Korean lunchbox?” Miles had peered down at Ganke from his bunk, Spiderman mask still covering his forehead and hair. “This is so cool!”

“Not really. It's just _Gimbap_.” Ganke didn't even slice them all the same but seriously, he's making them from what little he remembers of his eomma's recipe, okay?! “Some rice and healthy stuff all in one roll.”

“You made them! _For me!_ ” 

Ganke had blushed and made gibberish replies that Miles didn't even notice because he was too happy munching on the food that Ganke made. 

Miles notice a lot of stuff but apparently, a roommate's massive crush on him is not included on those things. 

Which is, like Ganke has said, _fine._

“No, it's really not.” Peni cuts him off; without looking up from tinkering on SP//dr. “Miles could grow old with you and he won't even find it weird that you two haven't settled down with some random ladies, raising two-point-five kids 'cuz you already stepped into the role of a significant other with all emotional fulfillment and commitment that comes with it _except–_ ” she raises the goggles and points a strange screwdriver at him– “ _except_ you guys are not married and Miles is still as thick as a Brocs’ soles. At fifty years old. Imagine that. Would you still want to be pining at _fifty_ , huh, Ganke?”

Ganke thinks of defending Miles’ honor when Gwen nods from the sofa. Instead, he rolls his eyes and swivels the chair. “He's not that bad.”

“Ganke. He told his parents– while wearing a shirt that says _Ganke is Always Right™_ and right out of the hospital, that movies with his best friend is more important than the world.” 

Oh, wow. Miles did? That's… cute. 

Gwen raises an eyebrow and Ganke shrugs to hide a smile. “Well, I _am_ his best friend.“

Peni groans. “I know we signed a Spider-Gang solidarity clause _but._ Miles. Is he really this dense?! Do we need to plan an intervention?”

He isn't. In fact, Miles is quite sharp. He just has a lot of things to juggle with all the advanced schoolworks that Vision gives them and the nightly Spidey crusades he has to do. And the secrecy. Miles is so genuine that hiding the truth from his parents is taking its toll on him. He's stretched far too thin on some days and Ganke has talked him out of an anxiety attack too many times to even give Miles something more to think about. 

Miles can always let down the burdens of being Spiderman when he enters their dorm room with only Ganke to see him unmasked. A resting place. Miles needs a lot of that these days. Ganke and their small room will always be _that_ for him, crush or no crush. 

See, Spiderman's splendid at taking care of other people. Miles Morales, on the other hand, isn't so good at taking care of himself. 

Ganke isn't, either. But he tries and it's not like Miles makes it hard for people to take care of him.

Sometimes, all Ganke has to do is clear up his bunk and let Miles crash on it so he wouldn't have to climb on his. On bad nights, Ganke types on his laptop beside a blanket-wrapped Miles, waiting for the other to either fall asleep or for the sun to come up. For busy nights, it's two cup of ramen noodles instead of one. 

And it's good. Ganke likes what they have now. He didn't need Miles to reciprocate his feelings. Miles lets Ganke take care of him even when they're both bad at it. Ganke realizes the extent of trust Miles put on him and everyday, he does his best to be worthy of it. 

“Wow.” Gwen says. “You are so whipped.”

“Right?!” Peni harrumphs and points at his face; Ganke barely dodges the weird screwdriver from stabbing his nose. “Miles is, too! I mean, look– _look at Ganke's face!_ ”

 _What's wrong with my face?_ Ganke's about to ask. But the basement's platform descends and it has Miles and Ham exchanging laughs over some joke. Miles is wearing his civilian clothes as it's a weekday but classes had been cut off early and they decided to hang out around May's for the rest of the day. Gwen and Peni being here when they arrived is just the cherry on top.

Miles’ laugh fades into a casual grin when the platform lands and when he sees Ganke, it grows wider. In full view of Miles’ stupid, perfect, white teeth and his amazing face, Ganke barely suppressed a whine. _It's so unfair!_ The basement is shrouded in shadows and lightened up by neon LED lights but somehow, Miles shines like a metaphorical sun and Ganke is _so, so weak._

In the background, he hears Peni sobbing a _Oh, Ham it's so bad you see?!_ but is drowned out by Miles’ greeting.

“Ganke! Hey man, I told you this basement's so cool and you'd like it. What do you think?” 

“Looks rad. You got your suit here, right?”

Miles grins and shoots him a finger-gun. Gwen looks ready to ask for the basement's ceiling to take her. Ganke ignores her. 

“Yeah! Peni shown you SP//dr's Shadow Executioner mode, yet?” He makes an aborted move, like he's about to walk towards Ganke but instead, caught something that made him pause. “Oops. Hey Ganke, please don't be mad at me.”

“What did you do, Miles?”

“ _Weeell_. You know that I like drawing with my markers, yeah? I mean, of course you do. You've slept in my bunk–” incoherent screeching from Peni that Miles and Ganke ignores– “and you've seen the number of markers I have so–”

“Miles, point.” Ganke says. He already has a hunch where this is going but…

Miles winces. “Uhm. So! You fell asleep on the bus and I was feeling doodly earlier and I don't– I forgot to bring paper? But your face is right there? I'm not saying I vandalized your face, man, but it's uhh… Yeah.”

“You drew on my face.”

“It's washable?”

Ham is having the time of his life behind Miles, slapping the floor and having big cartoon tears _outside_ his mask. Ganke sighs. “Okay. At least tell me it's not a dick.”

Three simultaneous coughs and one pig snort. 

“Ganke!” Miles squeaks. “A– a di– _dios mio_ , Ganke! Do you really think I'd draw a dick on your face?! Not cool. I thought you knew me better than that.”

Well, it's good to know he hasn't been walking around with a phallus drawing on his face.

Ganke shrugs and plays it cool, swivelling on his chair and resuming his forgotten essay on the laptop he brought. “Hey, can't be too sure but it's okay. I'll just wash it off when we get home.”

He hears Peni snorts a laugh, “ _Home?_ You guys are so married.”

“Yeah?” Miles asks, hesitant and slow, his voice getting further behind Ganke's back. “I mean— Peni! It's just home! Ganke and I live together in Visions, y'know? 'Course it's our home.”

“Oh.” says Gwen, sounding like she’s figured it out. Ganke smiles. She's always been sharp. “Guess that's why you're not too worried, huh, Ganke?”

He turns and gives a thumbs up. Miles looks between the two of them, “I don't know what are y'all talking about and it's weird but okay.”

Let it be said that Miles Morales is a hazard to Ganke's health considering his ability to cause palpitations without doing anything special and just standing there looking confused. Those nobodies in the internet don't know what they're talking about when they said Spiderman's strongest power is his venom strike. Clearly, they don't know their stuff. Miles Morales’ existence is the ultimate attack against Ganke's life.

He throws Miles a smile. Miles blinks at him and smiles back.

“Don't worry about it, Miles. Chinese for dinner?”

Miles drapes himself over the swivel chair next to him, arms braced on the headrest. “Sounds cool! Shall we get it delivered or do you want me to just _swing_ by the resto?” He wiggles his eyebrows and smirks. 

Ganke snorts. “Yeah, no. We'll just drop by on our way home.”

“Okay, Ganke.”

See, there's no need for an intervention at all. Everything is how it's always been and Ganke likes it the way it is right now.

…

When they get home hours later, and while Miles is cleaning out the one table they don't have filled with schoolworks and books, Ganke flicks the lights open in their bathroom. 

He pauses when he sees the careful lines drawn on the entirety of his left cheek. One hand grips the faucet lightly as the other traces the black outlines of a sunflower. The yellow doesn't stand out much on Ganke's light skin but the black is stark and draws a lot of attention. 

“You're not mad, are you?” says Miles, peeking from the door, looking a bit sheepish. “Sorry, man.”

“No.” Ganke finds himself saying, as he slowly turns the faucet on. “It's cool. You might want to get a darker shade of yellow, though? I kinda look sickly with this yellow.”

Miles brightens up considerably and Ganke takes that as a success even as he washes the drawing off his face. 

“Sure, man. I know just the shade for you but maybe I'll check later while you're on your laptop to make sure. I finished my schoolworks earlier at May's so I can try out these new markers I bought last weekend? It has like, five shades of yellow, man. They'll look amazing, promise.”

“Of course, Miles. C'mon, let's eat first.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three things I need to say:
> 
> 1\. I'm so, so thankful for everyone's positive response! I'll do my best to reply to each and every comment! I didn't expect all the love everyone has given this fic so it means so much to me! <3
> 
> 2\. I haven't read the comics. I've only seen glimpses of their interactions in the comics but it interests me so much so I tried to make Ganke's character a mixture of what he seems like in the movie and what his relationship with Miles is like in the comics.
> 
> 3\. There's a plot in here somewhere. I promise.

The window to their dorm room snaps close and Miles makes sure to pull down the blinds before he takes off the mask and drops on Ganke's bunk like a black and red sack of rice. Ganke side-eyes him from his swivel chair and turns off the music he's been playing on his headphones. The volume has already been turned down considerably when he sees Miles trip into their window but it doesn't hurt to be sure. 

“You okay?” He asks, turning his chair and rolling a little closer to the edge of his bed. Miles groans and rolls over, planting his face on the mattress. Ganke figures he'll live. “Rough night?”

“Met a creepy, old man who's hellbent on trying to eat me– so uncool man.” 

Miles’ voice comes out a little muffled but Ganke hears it all too clearly. “ _Eat you?_ ” He gasps, trying to think of something to say that is more eloquent and sensitive than that but all he manages is a gape all too reminiscent of a fish. 

“Well, he did say he wants to kill me, too.” Miles drags himself to a sitting position and throws Ganke a lop-sided smile. “Chill, bro. I think he wasn't expecting me to be so badass. I totally kicked his ass.”

Ganke doesn't believe it. Or, actually, he does. He can believe that some villain is out there trying to kill Miles. Ganke doesn't think he'll ever get used to Miles going out there, risking his life every night brushing up against all these bloodthirsty comicbook villains. He's used to staying up late at night. Sometimes even going on for days without sleep. But since finding out his roommate is Spiderman and then crushing on said roommate, Ganke finds that he can't get a wink of sleep even when he tries unless Miles is back and the faint smell of marker and tint fills their room together with the _click-clacking_ of Ganke's keyboard. 

It's a problem, he knows. 

But he doesn't believe Miles _totally kicked ass_. Trying to expel the heavy feeling in his chest that only gets tighter as he looks at Miles, Ganke sighs. “C'mon. Let's get you fixed up before sleeping.”

He stands up and drags his feet to their bathroom, where the first-aid kit that Ganke personally made for Miles is hidden behind the cabinet beside their mirror.

Behind him, he hears Miles rummage through his closet. “I promise I didn't get hurt that badly.” A thump. “Oomf! Ouch!” Miles hisses and there are lots of muffled shouts that Ganke suspects Miles is screaming to his arm. “That’s– I'm fine! Totally, absolutely fine, Ganke. Don't worry!”

Ganke re-emerges from the bathroom and finds Miles on their floor, out of his suit and carefully putting on a shirt. There's also a huge, purple bruise on his lower back that disappears behind the fabric, and a smaller, but just as dark and bad, on his left thigh. Miles raises a finger to try and poke at it. 

Ganke swats the hand away. “You shouldn't be poking your contusions.”

“It'll go away in a few hours, dude. It's okay.” Miles grins. Ganke meets his eyes and narrows it a fraction. Miles wilts. “Okay, no poking. Promise.”

“Sit on the bed, Miles.” Ganke turns away and he hears a soft hiss behind him. “I said: No poking, Miles.”

“Oof. Yeah, sorry. Can't help it.” Miles replies. “It's very tempting, you know?”

Taking the ice pack from their small fridge, Ganke ducks under the bunk and hands Miles the cold compress. Miles accepts it without much preamble and Ganke drags the first-aid kit he left on the floor with his foot. “Ice your arm and thigh alternately. Don't move too much doing it. I'll disinfect your other wounds.”

Miles hums a song under his breath and Ganke starts digging into the kit, intent on refocusing at the task on hand. His hands tremble for one quick second and he clenches them tight to stabilize them. 

His mom is a surgeon. Ganke may not have pursued a profession in that field but he imagines the disappointed glare she'll give him if she can see how much his hands are shaking. Over some _bruises_ and _scratches._ She's helped him put the first-aid kit together– because Woogle can only do so much and Ganke knows better than to trust it with Miles’ safety– and didn't ask why her son needs to know about stitches and sterilizing a stab wound but he feels she sort of thought he's started to realize the importance and intricacy of surgical procedures.

 _Oh, mom,_ Ganke thinks as he tries not to overpour the clean cloth with water while his hands shake terribly, _you're about to become very, very disappointed._

Miles shifts and Ganke lays off on dabbing the light scrapes, watches as his friend adjusts to a more comfortable position. “You know you don't have to do this, right?”

Ganke resists from rolling his eyes and avoids Miles’ eyes by cleaning the wounds again. “It's an occupational hazard.”

“Occupational hazard?” Miles laughs and Ganke's stomach flips. “What occupation, dude?”

“Of being your roommate.” Ganke's sitting too close to Miles, and even though Miles isn't in any danger of dying from shallow cuts and bruises, it wasn't the case a few hours earlier when he was out in the streets, fighting dangerous people. Ganke presses on a cut harder and Miles hisses. He pulls away. “Sorry. I don't– Miles, I don't mind doing this.”

He forces himself to look at Miles and _damn it._ Even under the dim light of their room at night, Miles’ huge brown eyes _won't_ stop gleaming like it sucked out all the light around them then trapped, locked and shut it behind with no return. Like, stained glass in those chapels he'd seen in Rome when Ganke was younger. He releases a shuddering sigh.

“It's– it's cool, man. Just… I get a little icky around blood?” Ganke tries to smile and hopes it doesn't come out as weird. “It's cool I get to do something for you. You’re doing a lot of good for us, Miles. You know that, right? Going out, protecting the people– that's no easy shit. Wish I can do more for you but, hey. Fragile human here.”

A hand clamps around his wrist, loose and easy to break away from. Ganke lets it stay there but he stares at it and tries to ground himself. _Miles is safe. He's here with you, Ganke. Stop freaking out!_

“Hey, Ganke?” asks Miles, soft and quiet like he's afraid Ganke is a frightened animal that needs to reassured. A car passes by their building, the _woosh_ of tires cutting through the silence and fades just as fast. Ganke looks at Miles. “Sorry, I know this isn't easy. But– I'm glad. I'm really glad I get to share this thing with you, man. I mean, I fight the bad guys all the time and it's really amazing. I love it, I'm happy I can do something for the city, y'know? But… it gets so lonely sometimes. When I'm looking down at the city, I think: _hey, that's a lot of people._ And there's me, sitting alone on top of a building.”

Miles gulps and the ice pack drops to the bed, stumbles onto the floor where it disappears. The two of them stares at the edge of the bed where it fell.

“And after my patrol is done, I'll go home and then see that our window's open and your computer is still on and I'll feel a whole lot better.” Miles peers at Ganke from behind his lashes and Ganke wishes Miles would stop looking at him like he's given him an early Christmas present for leaving the damn window open and staying up late every night. But Miles’ tiny smile doesn't waver, it grows wider. “It means a lot, man. Promise.”

Ganke inhales. Exhales. “You’re going to make me cry.”

“Seriously?!”

“Seriously.”

“Oh. Sorry?”

Ganke stretches an arm and reaches under the bunk to grab blindly for the ice pack. His fingers brush something cold and he takes it. “Yeah, you should be.” He tosses the ice pack to Miles who catches it with both hands. “I didn't say you can stop treating your bruise, Miles. Fifteen minutes each.”

Miles groans and just like that, he's Miles again. Bright, beautiful Miles. 

Ganke's stomach still hasn't stopped flipping and Miles’ fingers remain clamped around his wrist.

***

“So, the creepy old man you fought,” Ganke starts. Miles hums. “how did you _kick his ass_?”

Miles holds his wrist up to the light of Ganke's desk lamp, tongue poking out between his lips as he squints. He looks like the cutest puppy Ganke has ever seen and all that focus on Ganke (or Ganke's wrist) is bad for the heart.

“You know how I got this cool powers that the– the other Spidermen don't?” He falters for a second and Ganke is kind enough not to make any indication he knew Miles was about to say the _original Spiderman_ , like he's just a rip-off, a stand-in. It's another issue but something Ganke knows Miles is working on. Ganke hums back. “I think he's fought Peter before. 'Cuz he totally wasn't expecting my venom strike. I think he panicked and then escaped. But! Not before screaming how much he wants Spiderman dead.”

Felt-tip marker slides along his skin and leaves orange tint on its tracks. Miles draws a lot of loop and twists his wrist in every direction possible, before uncapping a yellow one. “I think this shade of orange looks good on your skin. What do you think?”

“Looks better than the vomit-yellow one last week.”

Miles beams. “Yeah!”

Ganke squints and tilts his wrist before Miles can layer another color. “Dude, are you writing my name?”

“Yup!” Miles says, dragging the vowels and popping the _p_. “So, feedback? Are you impressed, at least?”

His wrist definitely looks more colorful than it has ever been in Ganke's whole fifteen years of life. His first name is written in thick, capitalized letters. The characters are layered with black and red, except for the letter _A_. Instead of a romanized, alphabet letter, Miles put a sunflower on the space between letters _G_ and _N_. The sunflower is a vivid orange with yellow on its edges and shades of green for the leaves that extend and curl around the other letters. 

It's beautiful. 

Ganke tries to speak through the wave of emotion that pools in his throat. “Doesn’t it look like 'GONKE’, though?”

Miles snorts, not taking any offense. “Man, shut up. Why can't you appreciate the art?”

“Kidding. I like it.”

“See?”

“Yeah.” Ganke manages to snicker. “Maybe I should tell my mom I'm changing my name to _Gonke_? What do you think?”

Miles looks at him, unimpressed. “I think you're an asshole, dude.” Then he rolls his eyes. “You can admit I'm amazing.”

Under the dim light of their room, Ganke readily admits that he'll never get used to Miles as the spandex-clad hero, Spiderman. Spiderman who helps old ladies carry their shopping bags. Spiderman who chases thieves after thieves. Spiderman who willingly risks his life every day and night to keep the people in his city safe from harm. Spiderman who steps through their window, a young boy just like him. Ganke will never stop worrying if there would come a day that Miles would enter their room, needing help that Ganke can't provide. 

But. 

Under the dim light of their room and the steady beating of his heart behind his ribcage, Ganke can also admit that he'll always leave their window open until Miles arrives to close it himself. He'll always keep the first-aid kit box in their bathroom in case Miles needs the medical attention, no matter how mediocre and inexperienced Ganke is. He'll always look at Miles and think, _You're the most amazing person I've ever met and just being this close to you makes me feel amazing, too._

Miles gives so much to all these people: his heart, his loyalty, his _life_ , without expecting anything in return. 

So, if Miles says it means a lot to him that Ganke does what he does, then Ganke will do what he's always done.

Make sure Miles always has somewhere he can come back to everytime. 

Ganke smiles. “Yeah. You're pretty amazing, Miles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love comments so leave them for me! :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, good news: I finished the outline for this fic! Bad news: it gets darker. and it's making me excited uwu
> 
> But! Here's an update! It's bonding time with the Morales family! I hope I did their characters justice!! Let me know what you think! :)

“Hey, Dad!” Miles greets as they enter the car, he leans forward and kisses Mrs. Morales’ cheek. “Morning, Mama.”

Ganke settles beside him in the backseat and smiles. “Hi, Mr. Davis, Mrs. Morales! Thanks for inviting me.”

“You don't have to call us Mr. and Mrs., Ganke. Just Rio and Jeff is enough.” Miles’ mom smiles, “And we’re glad to have you, dear.”

“I know you only have weekend with Miles, though.” They snap their seatbelts on and Ganke nudges Miles shoulder as he smiles apologetically. “Sorry for imposing on your family day.”

“Nonsense!” Mr. Davis throws him a lopsided grin on the rearview mirror. The car pulls off the driveway. “We’ve been meaning to invite you for months now. Miles talks about you _a—ll_ the time!”

On his side, Miles’ marker pauses on its rapid doodling. The marker pooling with red tint where its tip meets the paper. Ganke looks away and wonders how bad it would be on a scale of one to ten if he were to give any indication that he likes Miles. On a picnic day. With Miles’ parents. 

He stamps down a wince. Yep. Very bad idea.

“Dad.” Miles complains. “I don't talk _that_ much about Ganke!”

“Well,” Mr. Davis starts, “whenever we ask you what's up, you say _oh, school's fine, what are we having for dinner?_ But then you talk about Ganke and suddenly, you get very chatty.”

“Papa.” Miles’ mom doesn't look at her husband but Ganke hears the admonishment in her tone. 

Oof. 

That… okay. Seems like Ganke doesn't have to dig himself that much of a grave when Miles has already done it for him albeit unintentionally. Though, it doesn't seem like it's Ganke who Miles’ dad has a problem with? Ganke _is_ a good roommate, isn't he? And Mr. Davis seemed cool with him on the rare occasions they've met before.

Ganke winces. _Or so he thought._

“School's really fine, though. I mean, you've seen my report cards, right? I'm doing great. There's just nothing else to talk about it?” 

“I know, honey. We can talk about it another time, okay? I'm really glad you and Ganke can join us today.”

Silence reigns in the car. Miles shuffles beside him and Ganke glances at him sideways. Miles catches his eyes and shakes his head.

_Sorry you had to see that._

Ganke shrugs and smiles. _Don't worry about it._

”I don't think I've seen you eat anything before we left. Or last night, either.” Miles says, pulling the sketchbook to his lap once again. He raises an eyebrow, voice low and Ganke barely hears it when Miles adds,“you love tuna macaroni right? I told Mama it's your favorite.”

“How did you know?”

Actually, Ganke's not partial to tuna macaroni salad. But a few months ago, Miles has gotten sick of seeing Ganke eat out of ramen cups and it just so happen that they have a can of tuna, macaroni pasta (Ganke thinks its been there even before they moved in but the expiration date was a month ahead so, whatever) and mayonnaise that's almost gone. It's almost a miracle how Miles made it work because the salad might not be winning any cooking contests but it's _edible._ But then, he sat in front of Ganke. Close enough that Ganke could count his lashes and eyes wide enough that Ganke's heart was rendered useless.

And like a weak idiot who panicked because his crush is _too close_ and _too beautiful_ , Ganke blurted out: “My favorite! Thanks!” and shoved half the bowl's content in his mouth. 

Miles’ eyes (and his whole face) have always been Ganke's greatest weakness. Never mind the mayonnaise is a little too sour and that the pasta were undercooked and stuck between his teeth. 

Miles cooked it for him and almost-expired pasta be damned, Ganke's going to enjoy every bite of it. 

“You're my bestfriend.” Miles shrugs, “I like knowing the things that make you happy. And the face you made eating that salad? It's on my top five of favorite happy Ganke.”

 _You can't just say that!_ Ganke wants to scream. He bites his tongue instead. 

Keeping a _‘nothing to see here, I'm just a friend’_ smile on his face is harder than he thought possible when Miles is turning to be the sun personified. Ganke fears it's morphing into a _‘I totally am whipped for your son, Ma'am, Sir. He's too perfect I'm gonna sue’._

Which is bad. But thankfully, Mr. and Mrs. Morales aren't looking. Ganke calms his heart rate and tries to keep it casual.

In the safety of their dorm, Ganke's free to look at Miles as much as his fragile heart can take. But outside, he has to be mindful of how long he stares and how much affection shows on his face. 

He _has_ to look away. 

Ganke drags his gaze away from Miles and focuses on the streets of Brooklyn that he already takes everyday. 

On a weekend morning, the people of Brooklyn are still buzzing with people going about their business. Ganke stares outside the car window as Miles’ dad turns at a corner with caution. It's a good morning, he supposes. Ganke doesn't like walking outside without shade in the early morning sun but he's never been invited to a picnic before and besides Mr. Davis’ weirdness, it's nice.

Plus, there's the programming project that Ganke needs to submit in three days and he's only halfway done with it. But he'd been working at it for a wholeass week and today's a Saturday. He'd rather spend his free time on a picnic at a park and some sun with Miles and his parents than stay holed up in their dorm. He'll just stay up late and then finish the project, no problem. There's nothing willpower and a dozen energy drink can't solve. 

“You can just sleep after we eat.” Miles murmurs beside him, elbowing him a little. His hands haven't stopped doodling on his sketchbook. There are lots of flowers that come in many shades of red and orange. “Mama and Papa won't mind.”

Mr. Davis and Mrs. Morales, who are both preoccupied with a conversation about that new workplace cafe around Vision's corner, pays them little attention. 

“I'm fine, Miles.” replies Ganke. He is. He's had a two-hour nap before they left the dorm. He's functioned with less sleep during exam week a year ago and still managed to ace them. A picnic will be a literal walk in the park compared to that. He smiles and elbows Miles back. “Thanks, though.”

Miles snorts quietly. “Yeah, man. You know it's no big deal.”

***

“So,” Ganke tenses as Mr. Davis sat a few distance away, his fingers stop tapping on the tablet he's brought with him. Miles’ dad is _huge_ and it's intimidating as hell. “Ganke.”

Pocketing the tablet, Ganke tries his best to straighten up while sitting. The man just demands respect! “Oh. Hi, Mr. Davis.”

“Oh, no. No.” Mr. Davis chuckles and waves a hand. “Call me Jeff. Any friend of Miles can call me that.”

First name basis with Miles’ dad?! Oh, no. Ganke's going to combust!

“O-Okay. Jeff…” Ganke trails off– “sir.”

Miles’ da— _Jeff._ Jeff laughs and pats Ganke's back. Oof! That is more forceful than Ganke expected. “We'll work on that, kid. But yeah, you're Miles’ bestfriend. No need to feel awkward, huh?”

“Yup. Absolutely, Mr— Jeff. Sir.” Ganke cringes. The embarrassment creeping on him, he clears his throat and asks. “Is there… something wrong?”

Miles’ dad shakes his head and replies. “Not at all.”

Which, of course. Implies something _is._

The picnic mat wrinkles under Ganke's right hand, which is hidden from Jeff's view. He doesn't hear Miles’ voice anywhere near the vicinity which is a little weird in itself because his best friend makes it somewhat of a point not to leave Ganke alone with his father during the whole picnic. 

It brings a whole new meaning to the word clingy and Ganke is not sure yet what he thinks of it. 

Mrs. Morales is nowhere to be seen, either. 

Ganke tries not to panic and slowly breathes in the air. the picnic cloth twists and crumples under his fingers. A few paces away, some random kids are playing tag and one of them _oof–_ one of them tumbles head first.

“So, is it about Miles?” He asks, hesitant and cautious. Then he scolds himself mentally. _Of course it's about Miles!_ What if Miles’ parents do not like him for their son? As his best friend, of course. Though, that just makes his crush all the more complicated, oof. Maybe this picnic isn't a good idea, after all.

The tuna salad was good, though. 

“You see, you're Miles’ bestfriend. And you share a dorm with him. You're the one person who spent the most time with our son.” 

Okay. Facts. Those are facts, right? Why is Mr. Davis citing all the facts? What's next? _You sleep in the same room as our son. You're not good enough for our son. You should leave our son alone._

Ganke's going to pass out soon. 

Despite his head being a little woozy, Ganke hums. “That's… true, Mr. Davis.”

“So, Rio and I… We're just. We're worried–” _that you might be harboring any untoward feelings for our son–_ “because he's been secretive and exhausted lately. Do you know if Miles is being bullied at Visions? Or is there anyone giving him a hard time?”

Ganke exhales the breath he doesn't know he's been holding. For a few seconds, his eyesight dances in and out of light and Ganke masks his dizziness by pulling his glasses away and wiping it with the edge of his shirt. “Oh.”

That. 

Miles’ dad nods. “We thought you would know. Since, well, you're Miles’ best friend.”

Ganke blushes and the world clears once again when he put his glasses back. “Miles… He's not getting bullied, sir. Everyone loves him. Even his teachers love him. But–” Ganke pauses and all of Mr. Davis’ attention falls on him. He doesn't know how to say it. _If_ he even should hint at it. It's Miles’ secret and not Ganke's to tell. “we have a prerequisite in school? Visions requires everyone to have an extracurricular club on the side and well, like I said, _everyone_ loves Miles, Mr. Davis. He's being invited to join everyone's club. It's crazy.”

The disbelief in Mr. Davis’ face is palpable. “Really?”

Ganke doesn't fool himself. He'd chop off his left hand if Mr. Davis believed him. Though, it's true that Visions required them to join a club, and that everyone loves Miles, the two of them know it's not the answer Miles’ dad is looking for. It's the answer Ganke's willing to give anyway. 

“Yeah.” Ganke nods and untangles the cloth around his fingers. “I'm sure Miles will tell you all about it once he's ready, sir.”

Mr. Davis hums and he looks at Ganke for a second longer than normal. Ganke refuses to look away and meets the gaze head on. 

“Ganke!” Miles cheerful voice breaks the oppressive tension. Ganke turns to his direction and found him handing a kitten to a kid with a tear-stained face. Probably rescued the poor furry on some tree, bleeding heart that he is. Then his eyes move to Ganke's left and Miles frowns. 

“Well,” says Mr. Davis, standing up and patting his clothes down. “thank you for telling me, Ganke.”

He makes an aborted sound that doesn't make it past his throat but Ganke hears anyway. Mr. Davis waves it off and grins. “Thanks for helping Miles, too. He needs a lot of support and… well, we worry. We're parents, yeah? It's a hard world we live in. So, thank you. Rio and I, we appreciate it.”

Whatever it is that Miles’ dad wants to say, Ganke doesn't find out because Miles runs over and eyes the the two of them warily. 

“Huh.” Miles raises an eyebrow. “What are you two talking about over here?”

“Nothing, Miles.” his dad pats Miles’ shoulder and stretches. “where's your mom?”

Miles looks like he's going to protest and push the issue further but Ganke yawns and pulls his tablet as casual as he can. He feels Miles staring at him. Ganke ignores it and taps on the tablet screen. 

“She's chatting with an old classmate we saw while I rescued the kitten.” Miles’ feet reach Ganke's peripheral and drops into a crouch in front of him. “Hey, you okay?”

“Peachy.” Then, realizing that might not convince his best friend in the slightest, meets Miles’ doubtful eyes and smiles. “Okay, fine. I'm a little sleepy, alright?”

The wariness lessens. “Well, I told you to sleep after eating.”

“You did.”

Miles scoots nearer, almost beside Ganke, and grins. “See, you should listen to me sometimes. I can be right, too.” He drags his backpack and pats it down, “Here. Mama's chatting with a friend and I don't think we'll leave soon. You can sleep and I'll just… I'll stay here and draw.”

Their picnic mat is spread under the shade of a huge tree but rays of sunlight peeks between the gaps of the leaves and Ganke wonders if the light is playing him, or if he's too tired, but Miles’ skin gets tinged with pink and he's beautiful. 

Ganke drops his head on Miles’ bag unceremoniously and a little hard.

“Oof! Ganke, you okay?” 

Ganke answers it with a groan. Miles laughs and acquiesces. 

There's no light playing him, Ganke thinks as he buries his face on the hard and rough fabric of the bag. Miles is just that beautiful and Ganke really should accept that as a fact of life. 

***

Miles.

At some point, Ganke must have drifted off because consciousness returns to him with all the blurriness that comes with realizing his glasses are not on his face. And that his thoughts are all blurred together, too. 

Miles?

“–that you interrogated him?” Miles. Yeah, that's… that's Miles. They're in their dorm? But his pillow… Ganke closes his eyes again and drags his face across _the pillow_. Yeah, not his pillow. Too scratchy. “Dad, that's not cool!”

Wait. _Dad?????_

Ganke frowns. Miles is not shouting, but he's trying to keep his voice down.

“Miles, I'm sure your dad didn't mean to make Ganke uncomfortable.”

What.

Oh, God. Ganke's too sleepy and tired for this. He should go back to sleep. In fact, it would be great if sleep claims him _right now._

There's a bit of shuffling on top of Ganke's head. “But he did! I bet he went all cop on Ganke– didn't you, Dad?”

“Miles, come on. We're worried about you. We need to know what's going on so we can help!”

“I'm fine! I told you, I'm doing _great_! You didn't have to ask Ganke, you could've asked _me_.”

…

“And would you have answered, Miles? Truthfully?”

“What? Yeah. Of course, Dad.”

“Okay. Is there something you'd like to tell us, Miles?”

…

“Uh, what exactly… this is weird. You guys are being weird. This is not about school at all, is it?” Pause. “Why are you two looking at Ganke?”

A big, deep sigh that can only be Miles’ dad. “Well, you've been very withdrawn lately, Miles. You know you can tell us anything, right?” 

“Anything, Miles. We love you and you have our support always. If you'll just tell us, if they're giving you a hard time at school…”

Wait. _Wait_. Ganke's eyes shoot open. _WAIT!!!!!_

“Wait–” Miles interrupts as his voice raises its pitch– “you think Ganke's _bullying_ me?!”

“Miles, no–”

“That's not–”

 _Oh, Miles. You oblivious, pure muffin._ Ganke breathes out. Holy crap this is weird. He really, really doesn't want to hear more of this. 

“Ganke's not bullying me! He's like– he avoids ants on the street, Mama!” In Ganke's defense, stepping on ants after he'd seen them is just unnecessarily cruel. “Ganke’s so– he's the best, guys. I promise.” Miles voice drops into a whisper that Ganke only hears because his best friend is sitting close to him. “I'm more likely to hurt him than he is to hurt me.”

Oh.

“Oh, _mijo_.” 

His heart squeezes in painful spasms under his rib cage and Ganke tries his best not curl in on himself. 

There's a vulnerability in Miles’ voice that Ganke has only heard from him whenever he talks about his spider predecessor. It makes Ganke want to throw away all pretenses of sleeping and give his best friend the tightest hug. Miles is the only person Ganke knows, who would never go at anyone with malicious intent. He's just as afraid that he'll hurt people without intending to. 

Being Spiderman, Miles has a lot of enemies he needs to deal with everyday. Enemies he _fights_ so he can stop them, so he can protect the people. Miles fights them so he can keep his people safe. 

But one thing Miles needs to understand is, he doesn't need to protect people from _himself._

Least of all, Ganke.

Ganke scrunches his face against Miles’ backpack and if there are wet spots on it right now, it'll be gone by the time Miles asks for it back. 

There's nothing dangerous with Miles Morales. Ganke just needs to make his best friend see it. 

***

“So, Ganke.”

No way. Not again!

Ganke pauses on the doorway of their dorm building. “Hey, Mrs. Morales.”

Miles’ mom smiles at him. Behind them, still inside the car, Miles and his dad are having a serious conversation. Proven by Miles’ inactivity and stillness. 

“I’d just… I wanted to apologize for Jeff's decisiveness today.” She hugs herself and her smile turns apologetic. “I hope we didn't ruin your weekend or made things awkward between you and Miles.”

“No, no!” Ganke shakes his head and steps back, the edge of his shoe scraping the concrete steps to the door. “Not at all, Mrs. Morales. Everything's cool. Nothing ruined or awkward, promise.”

“Oh.” Miles’ mom exhales audibly and chuckles. “That's really good to hear. Well, like we told Miles, you have our full support, okay? If you boys are not ready to tell us, yet, take your time–”

– wait, _wait!_ Ganke really should put a stop to this before if escalates into something irreparable. “Uhm, Mrs. Morales–”

“–and I know you're young and your hormones are going wild–” 

Ganke chokes on thin air. _Hormones?!_

“–and peer pressure can be too much. But I just want you to know that neither of you have to do anything you're not yet ready for, okay, Ganke?”

 _And now there's peer pressure._ Ganke's going to pass out after this conversation. Apparently, he's too weak for the whole Morales family. Miles is too beautiful and his parents give too much, too many panic-inducing conversations. God bless his weak heart. 

“That's. Uh. That's really nice of you, Mrs. Morales but Miles and I aren't dating.”

Mrs. Morales blinks. “Not… dating?” she frowns and looks at Ganke like a specimen she's about to dissect. “Is this a new thing that you kids do?” Then she backtracks. “Not that I'm judging! Like I said, whenever you're ready.” 

She smiles.

Behind her, Ganke sees Miles gesturing with his hands wildly. Well, here goes nothing. Ganke takes a deep breath and exhales. 

“No, ma'am. I mean, no one's going wild. And there's no peer pressure to succumb to? Because Miles and I are…” Ganke smiles, a little helpless and sheepish. “we’re bestfriends.”

Mrs. Morales stares. Blinks. And stares some more. “Bestfriends.”

“Yuuuup.”

She stares. Her shoulders fall and she doesn't blink. Not even when Miles closes the car door and yells, “Ganke! Wait for me, dude!”

A dry laugh escapes Ganke and he shrugs at Miles’ mom. Her eyes worryingly filled with distress. 

“Ay, _dios mio_ , you poor thing.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love reading comments so leave them for me below!! :)


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